Hope Republican, Volume 2, Number 26, Hope, Bartholomew County, 19 October 1893 — Page 2

HOPE REPUBLICAN. Bv Jay C. Smith. HOPE INDIANA If the Senate and House don’t settle the silver question soon how can Cleveland issue a Thanksgiving proclamation? A Geemak botanist has been discovering bacteria in tobacco and the fact has been used as a startling argument agaist the use of the weed. Really, though, it seems quite natural. Where else should we look for bacteria if not in “baccy.” It is not easy to tell the truth and to lie at the same instant and with the same words, yet a Philadelphia journalist accomplished that feat by the simple announcement: “Cheaper Gas in Sight.” Gas, we all know, is invisible, yet the statement was true, as it was intended to convey the information that there was a prospect for cheaper gas. Daniel Defoe, a lineal descendant of the author of Robinson Crusoe, is now a British sailor's apprentice, with six months to ser\ e. He was in New York harbor last week and when found by a Sun reporter, had been detailed as a cook. He is a sensible youth of nineteen, and declares his intention of abandoning the sea at the expiration of his apprenticeship. The “record” has been broken so many times of late that it would seem to be beyond repair. The last offender in this particular is the Lucania, the Cunarder steamer, which beat all former performances between New York and Liverpool by fifty-nine minutes, having ar-' rived at the dock in New York harbor, on the 6th, in 5 days, 13 hours and 25 minutes out from Liverpool. Rev. Irl B. Hicks, the alleged weather prophet, rushed into print in the latter part of September with a complete programme of the weather for October, but lost the opportunity of his life by failing to predict the great storm on the Gulf coast, on the 1st and 2d insts. Such a signal failure will not inspire confidence in his superior wisdom even if his predictions should be fullfiled. Lizzie Borden, the celebrated young lady, of Fall River, Mass., who stood trial for the murder of her father and step-mother, and was so triumphal! tly acquitted, has with her sister Emma, come into possession of her father’s estate. The sisters will have a combined fortune of $400,000 and have built a new cottage costing about three thousand dollars, into which they have moved almost all of the furniture from the old home so tragically famous. The gold districts of Colorado begin to feel the impetus that will naturally follow from the decline in the output of silver. The law’of supply and demand will work in the mountains as well as on the great prairies, and miners are beginning to be able to see this truth. There has been a great influx fof miners into the Cripple Creek region, known to be rich in gold. Many new and valuable strikes are reported. Old claims are being reworked and the outlook is very hopeful. The feline tribe in Brooklyn appear to be badly demoralized by the electric cars. Large numbers of cats have been perishing under the wheels, so many, in fact, that people seem to believe the animals commit suicide. Motormen testify that they seem to be dazed when the car approaches and appear unable to move. Possibly the well known electric qualities of Thomas act as a conductor of the fluid between the trolley wires and rails and paralyze him to such an extent that he is unable to escape. A common sense decision that will be of general interest throughout the State was made by Judge Everett of the LaFayette Superior Court a few days ago. An action had been brought to compel the county treasurer to pay a county order without regard to the fact whether the holder of the order owed the county taxes or stood clear on the books. The court held that

the custom heretofore generally ad' hered to by county treasurers, of deducting the amount of taxes or other sums due the county from county orders presented, was correct and legal. A man out in Washington State was badly “stuck” on a whale he bought of a lucky fisherman who captured it. The enterprising citizen saw great possibilities in the fish for exhibition purposes - and made some money that way. But Jonah s companion in the great transformation scene we read of,died, and what was worse-—smelled bad. The amateur showman spent his profits in coal oil trying to burn the “remains,” but the body was apparently constructed of asbestos and refused to “combust.” The town is rampant and urgent in its demand that the carcass shall be peremptorily removed, but at last reports perfumery was still in active demand. Ex-Senator Fair, of California, a short time ago loaned his son $70,000 to set up as a race horse owner. Thesdashing youth proceeded to possess a string of a dozen horses in short order, for which he paid liberal prices. The stable was taken to Chicago in the spring, and some preliminary races were run at St. Louis, to which circumstance is attributed the sickness of all the animals and the entire failure of the son and heir to make his “pile” by the success of his venture in horse flesh. The “old man” got angry and attached the establishment to secure what he could from the wreck of the project to apply on the $70,000 loan and arbitrarily ordered his darling bey to be locked up in his hotel at San Francisco, which was done. Theosophical devotees annually meet at Onset Bay, Mass., and indulge in ventilating their peculiar ideas. This year Henry B. Foulke has set up as a “Messiah.” He proclaims that a new order of things will begin within a year, and indorses Prof. Tottens’ figures interpreting prophecies of Isaiah and other scriptural writers. He says that Mine. Blavatsky was a re-incar-nation of John the Baptist and a Messiah —a man in the form of woman—and states that he is her successor. Mr Foulke believes in reincarnation and remembers distinctly seven previous embodiments, but refuses to state' what positions he formerly occupied. He states that Theosophists know who Grover Cleve land, Lincoln, Napoleon and Jay Gould were in former states, but positively refuses to divulge a secret that all would be glad to discover." We are inclined to believe that Mr. Foulke is a very selfish or very foolish man. If he knows so much he should give the world the benefit of his knowledge. Franz Ferdinand, of the House of Hapsburg, heir to the Austrian throne, and an Archduke with a string of titles and decorations of remarkable length and splendor, has been in Chicago doing the Fair incog. But the Stock Yards upper ten were on the look out for his ’ighness, and arranged a reception in the Austrian section of the Fine Arts building, and a select few “layed” for the Archduke, arrayed in the best style known to American society. After a weary wait the heir-presumptive was “steered” into the section which had been especially draped and curtained off for the occasion, and the master of ceremonies ruahed forward with all the cordiality at his command to greet the royal stranger. But tlie Archduke paid no attention to the official nor the assembled guests, and strode abruptly through the section. Not as much notice was given the waiting “upper tens” as was bestowed on the statuary, "and the royal party only paused to oalute the bust of Emperor Franz Josef and passed out. To add insult to injury the guards refused to permit the guests to leave the apartment until after ten minutes had elapsed, as the Archduke had given such an order for fear of being followed. The reigning families of Chicago and the reigning families of Europe do not appear to get on.well together during this Columbian year, for some reason. It must be admitted that the representative of the House of Hapsburg gave the stockyards magnates a very “cold shake." The thermometer never gets So low that the very best people won’t notice it.

Acimwsfi. Vesuvius and Pompeii and Their Instructive Lessons. Dr. Talmage Speaks Kloqnentlj of the hurled City ami Incidentally Talks Politics. Dr. Till mage preached at Brooklyn last Sunday. The subject was “Pompeii and Its Lessons;” the text, Isaiah xxv, 2, “Thou hast made of a defended city a ruin.” A flash, on the, night sky greeted us as we left the rail train at Naples, Italy. What was the strange illumination? It was that wrath of many centuries —Vesuvius. Giant son of an earthquake. Intoxicated mountain of Italy. Father of many consternations. A volcano burning so long and yet to keep on burning until perhaps it may be the very torch that will kindle the last conflagration and set all the world on fire. It eclipses in violence of behavior Cotopaxi and iEtna and Stromboli and Krakatoa. Awful mystery. Funeral pyre of dead cities. Everlasting paroxysm of mountains. It seems like a chimney of hell. It roars with fiery reminiscences of what it has done and with threats of worse things that it may yet do. I would not live in one of the villages at its base for a present of all Italy. On a day in December, 1631, it threw up ashes that floated away hundreds of miles and dropped in Constantinople, and in the Adriatic sea, and on the Apennines, as well as trampling out at its own foot the lives of 18,000 people. Geologists have tried to fathom its mysteries, but the heat consumed the iron instruments and drove back the scorched and blistered explorers from the cindery and crumbling brink. It seems like the asylum of maniac elements. Of course, the next day we started to see some of the work wrought by that frenzied mountain. “All out for Pompeii!” was the cry of the conductor. And now we stand by the corpse of that dead city. As we entered the gate and passed between the wails I took off my hat, as one naturally does in the presence of some imposing obsequies. That city had been at one time a capital of beauty and pomp, the home of grand architecture and exquisite painting, enchanting sculpture, unrestrained carousal and rapt assemblage. A high wall, twenty feet thick, threequarters of it still visible, encircled the city. On these walls, at a distance of only 100 yards from each other, towers rose for armed men who watched the city. The streets ran at right angles and from wall to wall, only one street excepted. In the days of the city’s prosperity its towers glittered in the sun. Eight strong gates for ingress and egress—gate of the Seashore, gate of Herculaneum, gate of Vesuvius being perhaps the most important. Yonder stood the temple of Jupiter, hoisted at an imposing elevation, and with its six corinthian columns of immense girth, which stood like carved icebergs shimmering in the light. There stands the temple of the Twelve Gods. Yonder see the temple of Hercules and the temple of Mercury, with altars of marble and bas-relief, wonderful enough to astound all succeeding ages of art, and the temple of Esculapius, brilliant with sculpture and gorgeous with painting. Yonder are the theaters, partly cut into the surrounding hills and glorified with pictured walls and entered under arches of imposing masonry, and with rooms for captivated and applaudatory audiences, seated or standing, in vast semicircle. Yonder are the costly and immense public baths of the city, with more than the modern ingenuities of Carlsbad. Notice the warmth of those ancient tepidariums with hovering radiance of roof, and the vapor of those caldariums with decorated alcoves, and the cold dash of their frigidariuras with floors of mosaic and ceilings of all skillfully intermingled hues, and walls upholstered with all the colors of the setting sun, and sofas on which to recline for slumber after the plunge. Yonder the barracks of the celebrated gladiators. Yonder is the summer home of Sallust, the Roman historian and senator, the architecture as elaborate as his character was corrupt. There is the residence of the poetPansa, with a compressed Louvre and Luxembourg within his walls. There is the home of Lucretius,, with vases and antiquities enough to turn the head of a virtuoso. Yonder see the Forum at the highest place of the city. It is entered by two triumphal arches. It is bounded on three sides by doric columns. Yonder, in the suburbs of the city, is the home of Arrius Diomed, the mayor of the suburbs, terraced residence of billionairedom, gardens fountained, statued, colonnaded, the cellar of that villa filled with bottles of rarest wine, a few drops of which were found 1,800 years afterward. Stand with me on its walls this evening of August 23, A. D. 79. See

the throngs passing up and down in tyrian purple and girdles of arabesque and necks enchained with precious stones, proud official in imposing toga meeting the slave carrying trays a-clink with goblets and a smoke with delicacies from paddock and sea, and moralist, musing over the degradation of the times, passes the profligate, doing his best to make them worse. Hark to the clatter and rataplan of the hoofs on the streets paved with blocks of basalt. See the verdured and flowered grounds sloping into the most beautiful bay of all the earth — the bay of Naples. Listen to the rumbling chariots, carrying convivial occupants to halls of mirth and masquerade and carousal. Hear the loud dash of fountains amid the sculptured water nymphs. Notice the weird, solemn, far-reaching hum and din and roar of a city at the close of a summer day. Let Pompeii sleep well tonight, for it is the last night of peaceful slumber before she falls into the deep slumber of many long centuries. The morning of the 24th of August, A. D, 79, has arrived and the day rolls on, and it is 1 o’clock in the afternoon. “Lookl” I say to you, standing on this wall, as the sister of Pliny said to him, the Roman essayist and naval commander, on the day of which I speak as she pointed him in the direction in which I point you. There is a peculiar cloud on the sky, a spotted cloud, now white now black. It is Vesuvius in awful and unparalleled eruption. Now the smoke and fire and steam of that black monster throat rise and spread as by gesture 1 now describe it. It rises; a great column of fiery darkness, higher and higher, and then spreads out like the branches of a tree, with midnights interwrapped in its foliage wider and wider. Now the sun goes out, and showers of pumice stone and water from furnaces more than seven times heated and ashes in avalanche after avalanche, blinding and scalding and suffocating, descending north, south, east and west, burying deeper and deeper in mammoth sepulcher such as never before or since was opened — Stabie, Heruclaneum and Pompeii — ashes ankle deep, girdle deep, chin deep, ashes overhead. Out of the houses and temples and theaters and into the streets and down to the beach fled many of the frantic, but others, if not suffocated by the ashes, were scalded to death by the heated deluge. And then came heavier destruction in rocks after rocks, crushing in homes and temples and theaters, No wonder the sea receded from the beach as though in terror until much of the shipping was wrecked, and no wonder that when they lifted Pliny the elder from the sailcloth on which he was resting under the agitations of what he had seen he suddenly expired. For three days the emtombment proceeded Then the clouds lifted and the cursing of that Apollyon of mountains subsided. For 1,700 years that city of Pompeii lay buried and without anything to show its place of doom. But after 1,700 years of obliteration a workman’s spade, digging a well, strikes some antiquities which leads to the exhumation of the city. Now walk with me through some of the streets and into some of the houses and amid the ruins of Basilica and temple and theater. From the moment the guide met us at the gate on entering Pompeii that day in November, 1889, until he left us at the gate on our departure, the emotion I felt was indescribable for elevation and solemnity and sorrow and awe. Come and see the petrified bodies of the dead found in the city and now in the museums of Italy. A.bout four hundred and fifty of those embalmed by that eruption have been recovered. Mother and child, noble and serf, merchant and beggar are presentable after a burial of 1,700 years. That woman was found clutching her adornments when the storm of ashes and fire began and for 1,700 years she continued to clutch them. There at the soldiers’ barracks are sixty-four skeletons of brave men, who faithfully steed guard at their post when the tempest of cinders began, and after 1,700 years were still found standing guard. There is the form of gentle womanhood impressed upon the hardened ashes. Pass along, and here we see the deep ruts in the basaltic pavements, worn there by the wheels of the chariots of the first century. There over the doorways and in the porticos are works of art immortalizing the debauchery of a city which notwithstanding all its splendors, was a vestibule of perdition. Those guttersyan with the blood of the gladiators, who were the prizefighters of those ancient times, and it was sword parrying with sword until, with one skillful and stout plunge of the sharp edge, the mauled and gashed combatants reeled over dead, to be carried out amid the huzzas of the enraptured spectators. We stayed among those suggestive scenes after the hour that visitors are usually allowed there and stayed

until there was not a footfall to be hoard within all that city except our own. Up this silent street and down that silent street we wandered. Into that windowless and roofless home we went and came out again on j the pavements that, now forsaken, were once thronged with life. While I walked and contemplated the citv seemed suddenly to be thronged with all the population that had ever inhabited it, and I heard its laughter and and blasphemy, and uncleanliness, and infernal boasts, as it was on the 23d day of August, 79. And Vesuvius, from the mild light with which it flushed the sky that summer evening as I stood in disentombed Pompeii, seemed suddenly again to heave and flame and rock with the lava and darkness and desolation and woe with which, jnore than eighteen centuries ago, it submerged Pompeii, as with the liturgy of fire an'd storm the mountain proclaimed at the burial, “Ashes to ashes, dust t dust.” But the cemetery of dead cities not yet filled, and if the present c> ies of the world forget God and wi their indecencies shock the heaven! let them know that God, who, on th* 24th day of August, 79, dropped oa a citv of Italy a superincumbrance that stayed there fifteen centuries, is , still alheand hhtes sin now as much \ as he did then, and has at his command all the armament of destruction with which he whelmed their iniqffitous predecessors. It was only a few summers ago that Brooklyn and New York felt an earthquake throb that sent the people affrighted into the streets, and that suggested that there are forces of nature now suppressed or held in check which, easier than a child in a nursery knocks down a row of block houses, could prostrate a city or engulf a continent deeper than Pompeii was engulfed, Our hope is in the mercy of the Lord continued to our American cities. It amazes me that in this city, which has the quietest Sabbaths on the continent, and the best order, and the highest tone of morals of any city that I know of, is how having brought into as near neighborhood as Coney Island carnivals of pugilism as debasing as anv of the gladitorial contests of Pompeii. What a precious crew that “Coney Island Athletic Club” is,under whose auspices the orgies are enacted! What a degradation to the adjective “athletic,” which ordinarily suggests health and muscle developed for useful purpose! Instead of calling it an athletic club they might better Style it “The Ruffian Club for Smashing the Human Visage.” Warned by the doom of other cities that have perished for their ruffianism, or their cruelty, or their idolatry, or their dissolutness, let all American cities lead the right way. Our only dependence is on God and Christian influences. Politics will do nothing but make things worse. Send politics to moralize and save a city, and you send smallpox to heal leprosy, or a carcass to relieve the air of malodor. For what politics will do I refer you to the eight weeks of stultification enacted at Washington by our American Senate. American politics will become a reformatory power on the same day that pandemonium becomes a church. But there are, 1 am glad to say, benign and salutary and gracious influences organized in all our cities which will yet take them for God and righteousness. Let us ply the gospel machinery to its utmost speed and power. City evangelization is thedhought. Accustomed as are religious pessimists to dwell upon statistics of evil and dolorous facts, we want some one with sanctified heart and good digestion to put in long line the statistics of natures transformed, and profligacies balked, and souls ransomed, and cities redeemed. Give us pictures of churches, of schools, of reformatory associations, • of asylums of mercy. Break in upon the "Misereres” of complaint and despondency with "Te Demos” and "Jubilates ’ of moral and religious victory. Show that the day is coming when a great tidal wave of salvation will roll over our cities. Show how Pompeii burled will become Pompeii resurrected. Demonstrate the fact that there are millions of good men and women who will give themselves no rest day nor night until cities that are now of the type of the buried cities of Italy shall take type from the New Jerusalem coming down from God out of heavI hail the advancing morn. Shall our last walk be through streets where sobriety and good order dominate or grogshops stench the air? Shall our last look be upon city halls where justice reigns, or demagogues plot for the stuffing of ballot boxes? Shall we sit for the last time in some church where God is worshipped with the contrite heart, or where cold formalism goes through unmeaning genuflexions? God save the cities! Righteousness is life; iniquity is death. Remember picturesque, terraced, templed, sculptured boastful. God-defying and entombed Pompeii 1